Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Unfortunately, my parents were more perceptive than I gave them credit for—and they were nosy too.
My mom knocked on my door an hour after I’d escaped to my room.
“I made chili for dinner, honey. Are you hungry?” she asked.
“No, thanks.” I peered over the textbook propped on my knees and gave what I hoped passed for a smile.
She leaned against the doorjamb and smiled. “I got your text. Too bad about Willy. That ol’ thing has had a rough go of it lately. Did Aiden say what was wrong?”
“Battery. Um, I’ll get a new one tomorrow.”
“Ah. And where is it now?”
“The Bronco? It’s…his cousin took it to the garage.” I think.
“Oh. I’m surprised. I didn’t think Aiden’s uncle wanted to do business with the Murphys.”
I frowned. “You heard about that?”
Mom moved into the room and sat on my desk chair, swiveling it to face the bed.
“Simon mentioned it. He didn’t have to, though. I remember that odious man. Hank? Ugh. You know I’m not one to speak ill of the dead, but Aiden’s father wasn’t much better. He was either absent or abusive. Verbally, anyway. I hated running into him at games. He was almost always drunk or high or something. I insisted on driving Aiden to practices and having him over whenever possible. I hated thinking he might be in danger.”
“That was a long time ago, Mom. He’s fine.”
“He was fine then too. Mostly anyway. He was easy company. Clever and funny and…he fit in here.”
I put my book on the bed. “You’re grilling me. What else do you know?”
“Nothing specific. But I think you might be more than friends.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, afraid to blink when tears threatened. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, I know you pretty well, Georgie. While you studied the stars, I studied you. I noticed early on that you liked order, consistency, and could memorize an unfathomable amount of information. You memorized the presidents and first ladies in order and knew where they were from and when they were inaugurated…when you were four years old.”
“Is that weird?” I bluffed.
Mom chuckled. “It’s extraordinary. I learned early to keep my eyes open and my ears perked. I had two goofy, gregarious boys, and one very serious one who loved to learn. Passionately. You’ve been carrying books and wearing a cape for years, my love. The books stayed, but the cape…that only comes out when you’re nervous.”
“What does that have to do with Aiden?”
“He doesn’t make you nervous. He understands you. He appreciates you. If he’s someone special to you, you should know that we’d welcome him with open arms.”
A single tear trickled down my cheek. I swiped at it with the back of my hand and fixed on a seam in the black damask wallpaper.
“He can do better, Mom. He’ll meet someone more…normal. Someone who fits his sporty career and can talk to his friends without quoting Wikipedia entries. I’m too…me for him.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m weird.”
“Weird is good,” she said vehemently. She set her hand on my knee and shifted to sit on my bed. “In my experience, the things others call weird are a mirror to the soul. Not everyone is comfortable seeing life from a different angle. That’s their loss. But Aiden isn’t like that. He’s not—”
“Out. He’s not out, Mom,” I finished her sentence, then repeated it under my breath. As if I needed to remind myself that I hadn’t done something irrevocably stupid without reason. “I’m not going to ask him to come out for me. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not selfish…not about something that important. Aiden needs our whole family. Not just me.”
“He could have it all.”
“That’s up to him. It has to be.”
Mom drew in a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. If he’s the right one for you, he’ll come around when he’s ready.”
Or not. It wasn’t really a matter of “coming around” or “coming out,” it was a matter of giving my favorite person the space he needed to fulfill his dreams on his terms. Not mine.
12
Aiden
I idled in front of the Murphy house, frozen with uncertainty. I literally didn’t know what to do. I wanted to go after George, shake him and demand that he explain himself. But I also wasn’t sure I could take it if he told me again that he loved me as a friend.
And as tempting as it might be to call him back and ask for clarification and a road map, I had wounds to lick and I didn’t trust my gut to give me rational advice at the moment.
I drove aimlessly through Pasadena, unsure where to go or what to do. I didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment, and I definitely didn’t want to go to the garage. Timmy let me know that he’d replaced the Bronco’s battery and delivered it to George’s address. That was nice of him for sure, but Timmy played by the book when it came to recording time and materials. A battery that hadn’t been paid for was going to cause issues with Hank tomorrow.